Drown
by Shipperwolf
Summary: They were broken and rebuilt and they fought like they had nothing left. His past felt like fire and hers tasted like blood. They were perfect together.
1. Room 34-A

**Hello there Carylers!**

**Here is chapter 1 of a huge challenge I set for myself. My first 'crossover AU': Caryl, _Pacific Rim_ style.**

**I'll be honest and warn you, if you haven't seen the film and/or know nothing about it, some of the terms and history mentioned in this fic may be confusing. But I'll do all I can to keep our babies in character, and even try to rework some canon into their transformed backstories!**

**Warning number 2: Prepare for angst. It's gonna happen.**

**Please enjoy, and forgive me for any mishaps I may embarrass myself with!**

**(I disclaim ALL the _TWD_ and_ Pacific Rim_. THEY BELONG TO BEAUTIFUL GENIUSES AND I AM NOT AMONG THEM)**

* * *

L.A wasn't much to look at, really. Tall buildings and busy streets, and pretty much nothing else as far he saw.

But it was far, _far_ away from Georgia, and that's what mattered most.

Daryl shut out the insect-like buzz of the crowd around him, huddling against a far wall in the half-built structure that the government was calling the "The Ranger Academy". Around him a mass of people, from lanky teenaged girls to pudgy, balding men stood amongst themselves and chatted it up, waiting to find out how exactly this training shit was going to go down.

They were volunteers, every one of 'em, all clamoring for a shot to strap inside one of those giant metal robots and kick some kaiju ass.

He watched them from his (barely) quieter corner, and for a moment he wondered at their reasons.

Why did that girl that looked like a fucking fifteen year old want to kill monsters? Or that middle-aged fella in the business suit?

Who had they lost?

_What were they running from?_

His attention peeled away from them when two men in uniforms shouted over the fray, commanding silence. Daryl huffed. He could already tell he wasn't gonna like much of this, especially these suits tryin' to tell him what to do.

But damn if he didn't need to get out there and do something like this, distract himself from the shit back home. Trade one fight for another.

_And these would actually _mean _something._

They started calling names off the sign-in list, one by one, forming lines out of the chaos.

This entire thing was a mess, really, thrown together in the past year and a half, quick-like, desperate.

Three of those things had come through that alien-hole already, torn up big cities and killed thousands.

Or was it hundreds of thousands?

Whatever.

The "Jaeger program" was up and running, with a few already out there kickin' ass, but they needed more pilots to really get it going solid. They didn't even care if you were a soldier or a damn med student.

If you could get through the training and do this "drift" thing with someone, you could climb into a jaeger and fuck some shit up.

Daryl felt his lips lift.

He needed this.

* * *

The large room was thinning out when he saw her.

Sitting directly across from him on the opposite wall, legs clamped together, fists clenched tight in her lap. Her hair was cut short, _real_ short, and looked like it had been a reddish-brown once, before it started speckling grey.

The red tank was just barely visible under the light beige shawl lying across her shoulders.

She looked plain, meek, out of place.

_Welcome to the club, lady._

As if he'd said it out loud she raised her head and looked up at him.

Blue eyes, sad, nearly empty, met his and something deep, deep inside them shifted back to life.

Daryl blinked at her and frowned.

And then they called his name.

* * *

He signed his damn life over to the Program, was told he'd be spending weeks in training just to see if he could cut it. Either he made it through, got inside one of the jaegers, or he went home, back to nothing, to a decrepit empty house and a brother just crawling out of the clink.

_And he had no want for Merle's shit anymore, no matter that they were all that was left of the Dixons now…._

And maybe, that little voice in his head was right. Get away, it had said. There's a golden opportunity. Drive your ass to California and take it…

_And try not to fuck it up._

So there he was, sitting in a mess hall full of hapless nobodies all dressed in the same slate grey sweats.

He grimaced at how quickly he'd blended into them, become _one_ of them.

Like a part in the machine.

Another half-grin slid his mouth up.

He shoveled the cold mac-n-cheese into his face and ignored his own fucked sense of humor.

* * *

He walked slowly back to his room, took his time to memorize the way.

There were so many of them, crowding the place (for now, he figured) that he couldn't make head or tails of what was where.

Daryl rounded a corner.

Brushed past a burly man who seemed to grumble at him.

Ignored the bastard and read the numbers on the doors until he finally found it. Room 34-C. Tiny, almost a damn closet. But so small that he didn't have to share it with anyone.

Most of the rooms in his hall were like that.

It helped lessen the crowd and he definitely approved.

Turning the metal handle he pushed the heavy door open and took a first step into the cool darkness.

And then saw her, out of the corner of his eye.

Right beside him, two doors to his left.

The woman with the short-cropped hair.

Head turned he peered at her, watched her pull that shawl of hers tight as she made to slink inside her own room.

He froze and she did the same before glancing to her right and looking at him.

This time, her eyes widened a hair at finding him again, and Daryl felt something in him shift when she attempted a shy smile.

And then she disappeared into her own darkness, and he felt himself do the same.

Room 34-A.

He'd remember it.


	2. Nice To Meet You, We're Going to Hell

**Chapter 2 up!**

**Still wrapping my head around this crossover thing, guys, but I'm having a ball with it.**

**More angst (and dialogue) to come in future chapters, I promise!**

* * *

His first week there, he did jack shit.

Daryl was ushered into large rooms to listen to boring lectures that literally lasted the entire damn day, breaking for meals and the occasional piss.

If he'd had it all his way, he'd have slept through them all.

But this was damn government, practically the military, and damned if they were gonna let him get away with it. Instead, he picked which "crucial" information to absorb, blocked the rest out, and took to birdwatching.

And by bird, he meant _her_.

The meek little woman two doors down sat exactly two seats ahead of him in every class, and during one of the endless courses on "Drift compatibility", Daryl couldn't help but wonder if it all meant something.

She would glance at him from time to time, usually in the mess, before choosing a mostly-empty table to quietly eat at. Daryl made attempts to sit away from the crowds as well, and part of him—that part that shifted and twisted and turned every time he saw her—wanted to just say "fuck it" and pick up his plate to join her.

But he never did. Not because he was mysterious, and not because he was a "lone wolf" (whatever that shit meant)….

But because he was a fucking coward, and he didn't want to admit that this complete stranger was pulling him in.

* * *

Exactly eight days into the Ranger training, she made the move.

It was breakfast before their first-ever round of PT, and he had to admit, he wasn't looking forward to pumping out push-ups for some loudmouthed ass yelling in his face. Daryl felt himself coil tight at the thought, the doubts seeping in.

Was fighting in this damn war really something he wanted to do? Was there even a point? He wasn't a soldier any more than the lawyer across the hall, or the short-haired woman whose name he still didn't know.

Was becoming one really worth his time, just to get the fuck away from his shit life?

_And was dying in the war any better than living back home,_

_Alone, in that shack, or worse…with Merle cooking meth in the kitchen while he tried to decide if he was going to do any?_

Daryl started when a shadow loomed over, and he realized he'd been staring at his untouched tray.

He looked up. There she was.

"Do you mind…?"

He blinked, and suddenly all of his questions meant nothing; life itself was shit anyway and the way this woman was peering down at him was a hell of a lot more interesting. He gestured with a jerk of his head, watched her from under his lids as he bent his head down to begin picking at his eggs.

She sat.

They ate.

Didn't speak.

And somehow, that made it easier.

A sound rang out through the mess hall, a horn of sorts to tell them it was time to move on.

When he stood, thumbing the metal of the tray and trying to consider whether or not to say something, she began backing away from their table with a small, almost sad smile.

"I'm Carol."

He breathed.

"Daryl."

"Nice to meet you, Daryl. Thanks for the seat."

And damn him to the worst kaiju-infested hell, he felt the pull again and his lips quirked despite himself,

"Sure."

And she was gone, into the lumbering, sleep-deprived crowd that would reconvene outside to make fools of themselves doing jumping-jacks.

He'd be one of 'em.

* * *

She sat at his table every meal after, and eventually, the two or three people that sat with them wandered away, their attempts to pull himself and Carol into their conversations failing and apparently frustrating them.

Daryl couldn't give two shits.

And Carol…

She kept to herself just as he did, and they hardly spoke to each other.

And that was just fine, he figured, because what was there, really, to talk about, aside from the kaiju that just broke through the Breach, and the Jaeger team that died taking it down?

Everyone else was already buzzing about it, and already, at least twenty people had pulled out of the program as a result.

He wanted to laugh at them.

If they didn't join to die, they shouldn'ta' joined at all.

_Because they were all going to die._

_Even him._

_Even her._

Daryl finished his dinner and looked up to meet Carol's gaze.

She smiled at him as she chewed.

He waited for her to finish her meal before they headed to their rooms in silence.

* * *

Three weeks, and a few compatible teams had been confirmed. Mostly made up of those who'd joined together: fathers and sons, siblings, twins, even a middle-aged married couple….

The rest of them, separate, hapless, began screening, meeting with the program shrinks to answer hour-long personality questionnaires that seemed to just be the docs repeating the same damn questions fifty times in a row.

When the simulator tests began, Daryl knew it'd end for him one of two ways:

He'd match with someone, move on to begin Jaeger training.

Or he wouldn't, and that'd just be it for him.

The simulator, a large room built to look and act just like the cockpit (or fuck, what did they call it in class…._Conn-Pod_) of a Jaeger, was apparently able to test them one at time, as well as a team. Two by two, the rest of them went in. Two by two, they followed simulated movements together and Daryl knew the damn Drift sequence wasn't even being initiated yet. They didn't have time for this slow-moving shit.

If the program was so desperate to get pilot teams out and fighting, they needed a faster way of-

Two names were called out. The next team to try their luck.

Carol was sent into the simulator with him.

Daryl's brain shut down as they stood side-by-side, felt himself being attached to the operating systems, latched in, head to foot.

When they were ready, and the basic simulation began ("move this arm, lift that leg, in unison, now, don't falter!") he knew.

Daryl looked to his left (she was always at his left, it seemed) and he knew.

They were gonna Drift together.


	3. Calm Before the Shitstorm

**Heya readers!**

**I intended for this chapter to be longer and more...well, _exciting_, but I decided to break it up and leave the real action for the next update. **

**I'm lazy like that.**

**I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless!**

* * *

When they were selected to move on to the Drift simulation, he wasn't at all surprised.

Five other teams were paired and they were given a day to read up and prepare for what their brains were going to be subjected to.

Daryl tossed the booklet to the floor and flopped onto his bed with a tired grunt.

The Conn-Pod was hell on the body, he realized, and he wanted to laugh at himself for thinking it would be anything but. They were going to be driving a damn two-thousand _ton_ walking piece of metal.

Muscle burn was going to be a constant.

Lying in the dark he thought about what he remembered from the courses. Realized it wasn't quite as much as he ought to. Reached back down to the floor beside him and picked up the book, cracking it open and flipping on the small lamp by his bunk.

Two doors down the hall, Carol was probably nose-deep in her own material, feet nervously shifting as she absorbed as much as she could to prepare herself.

He knew this about her, and they hadn't even _Drifted_ yet.

* * *

What he wasn't expecting was for her to come knocking at his door three hours later, jerking him from a comfortable doze.

He cracked the door open, found her peering up at him meekly.

"Sorry…you were asleep…."

He fought off an obvious huff and shrugged instead,

"Nah. Just about to hit the sack, though."

In the dim light of the hallway he could see her eyes glisten, shifting into his and trying hard (_really_ hard, he realized) to be steady and strong. Carol blinked at him and smiled.

"Oh, 'course….I'll just—"

Daryl sighed and pulled the door wider.

"Come in."

In silence the woman crossed the threshold of his doorway and came to stand just inside, waiting for him to close the heavy metal with a dull clang.

He rubbed at his forehead. Bit back a yawn.

Narrowed his eyes at her and leaned against the door.

"A'ight….talk. You worried about tomorrow?"

He watched Carol shift in place, pull her hands- which were crossed over her arms- down to shove into the shallow pockets of her standard-issue sweat pants. She was trying to relax around him, get used to the idea of communicating honestly.

It wasn't something he himself looked forward to, or was comfortable with, but they_ were_ about to become co-pilots in a war against giant alien monsters….

Didn't really have much choice anymore, he figured.

She nodded to him, breathed in deep and he swore he heard a sniffle despite the lack of actual tears.

Daryl felt his skin prickle at the idea of the woman crying in front of him.

He wasn't quite sure how he'd go about handling it if she did—

"When we….Drift….we're going to be inside each other's brains….each other's memories…."she trailed, hesitant. Almost waiting for him to affirm a statement they both knew was true.

He nodded and forced his feet to step forward, just once, closer into her space.

"Yeah. Mind-meld and all that crazy shit. Why? You getting' cold feet, wanna pull out before we even-?"

"No. No, I'm not quittin'." Daryl caught the drawl in her accent, not as thick as his, but he always knew she was from the same area of the country he was.

Not that they'd ever really talked about it.

_And what was the point in it, anyway, when they were about to find out everything about each other?_

She re-crossed her arms, looked away from him. Her eyes scanned his room, slowly, blinking at his bed and Daryl felt himself swallow reflexively before following her gaze to land on the refresher booklet settled by his pillow.

She stared for a moment before grinding out,

"I'm afraid, Daryl."

Something hot rushed into his blood, landing heavy in his chest and he snarled silently. He hated the wet glaze in her eyes and he hated the way his belly flipped at seeing them.

He stepped forward again, almost expecting her to begin backing away.

She didn't.

Carol stood still and watched him bend into her space, and he knew his lips were curling in frustration, and he didn't care.

"Afraid a' _what_? Dyin'?" His own accent thickened heavily and his voice was a growl, and he couldn't explain to himself why he was reacting the way he was, when all she was doing was confessing her very real and justified fears to the one person she should be able to…

The person she would probably die beside…

_She should be scared. And she shouldn't._

Their breaths were hot in each other's faces, and he pulled back a bit, realizing he'd gotten too close for his own comfort. Daryl grimaced when she caught his eyes and smiled sadly.

Shook her head and whispered,

"No. Just afraid of what you might see in my head."

He froze solidly in front of her, held her gaze for a split second before breaking away and snorting bitterly.

Reaching for the door he opened it, nodded out to the hall and tried his damndest not to let anger leak into his voice.

"You an' me both, lady."

* * *

The suits were bulkier with all the neural sets they had to hook into place.

He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again.

They were strapped in again, the simulator firing up around them. The operator came over the comm-link,

"Alright, Dixon and Peletier, strapped and set. You two ready to begin?"

He turned to look to his left, pulling against the heavy equipment he was latched to. The machine was set to feel exactly like a Jaeger, they told him. And the Drift…

It would be their first, and it would just as real as if they were actually out there.

Carol peered through her helmet at him.

A forced strength set in her eyes and she nodded. He did the same.

In his ear, her voice fizzled over the comm.,

"We're ready."


	4. Black and Blue and Dead All Over

**Okay, guys:**

** This chapter is short but emotionally exhausting. I started this fic with the intent to make it DARK, and that darkness begins right now. I've taken some creative liberties with Daryl and Carol's pasts here, and they're...well, rather angstastic. I'll be elaborating a bit more on said pasts in later chapters.**

**Please forgive my emotional abuse.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Initiating neural handshake in 3…2…"

Daryl felt his brain turn into an endless sea of foggy, spinning memories. Lifelike and dreamlike: real, and imagined. He was there, he was here, something shifted before his eyes and within a blink he was somewhere else.

For what felt like several long minutes, everything just _spun, spun, spun_….

And then it slowed.

He opened his eyes and could see through the fog.

_His best friend got a new bike for his eighth birthday. God he hated that bike. He hated it so goddamn much—_

_She whispered in his head, "Me too. I do too." And he wanted to cackle like a madman. _

_She pulled on him, Carol, the woman he didn't know and yet-fuck…fuck, he _did_, he did know her…._

_She pulled, and he slipped, fell, hit something warm and wet and hard—_

_Blood. Blood on the floor, the kitchen floor. _

_He was scrambling, his heart pounding in his ears as he watched her just beside him, eyes wide and bloodshot and wild and-_

_Her blood. The girl's._

_Her daughter's. Or was Sophia_ his_?_

_She was both, and she was gone._

_When did he let Ed go that far? How could he have not-?_

_A gunshot. Carol was screaming over her baby's body and the sound reverberated from the bedroom. She ran. She scrambled over the thick, wet blood and turned, ran out the front door to the house down the street._

_He ran with her._

_His face hurt, his neck hurt, he couldn't breathe, someone had tried to strangle him—_

_Daryl shouted into the ocean of blue and red,_

"_Fuck, fuck,_ no_!"_

_And pulled back and away._

_And Carol whimpered in his ear, the sound sizzled like static and he saw her standing in front of the shack that was his brother's old meth lab, saw her grimacing, snarling with him as Merle was dragged from the building and forced into a cop car—_

"_This is what we are. This is what we'll always be—"_

"That's a no go on the sync-up. Heart rates are outta control. Shutting 'er down…."

_He heard it. The sizzle. The voice that sounded above their screams._

_Daryl jolted. The blue stilled._

_Fog. Thick and blue and black and bruised. Dead._

_She stood directly across from him and watched it shift between them, slow, mocking. _

_The fog of memories they would never escape. The fog of cowards and weak hearts—_

"Daryl."

He breathed. Gulped in oxygen and the blue faded into color, the slow spin of the Drift straightened and stilled and he turned his head to look at her. Through her helmet he could see her eyes, wet and desperate.

"Shutting down in 3….2….1—"

"No. No. _No_, goddammit, don't shut it down!" He screamed into the built-in mic and shuddered when he literally _felt_ her agree.

They locked gazes and breathed in, deep, in the exact same moment and then—

_Just like that._

"Neural handshake…_successful_. Calibrating hemispheres…keep it up, you two: you can do this."

Even as he stared Daryl could feel her memories shift through his brain, the smile of her little girl at the forefront and the sticky blood on her hands its backdrop. They kept breathing, steady and in unison. He felt her lip tremble, a flash of his childhood home in flames, a group of boys on bikes standing in the street, watching it.

His best friend's stupid _fucking_ new bike.

She exhaled when he did.

"Ya' got it?"

She nodded. Smiled grimly.

"I'm okay, yeah."

Their movements tightened in an instant: controlled, solid.

He raised his right arm. She raised hers.

She raised her left. He followed.

_A gunshot rang through their skulls and the smell of chemicals assaulted their noses._

They breathed.

"Right hemisphere calibrated…..left hemisphere calibrated. Dixon and Peletier, online and in sync. Hold it steady for a minute there, guys, and we'll go through some operating drills."

He grunted in response to the chipper controller and faced ahead. Watched the weapons system appear on the Conn-Pod's HUD. Beside him, he heard Carol sigh in silence.

"_Daryl…we did it."_

He nodded straight ahead. Blinked as he felt her smile.

"_Yeah, we did. Now let's learn how to kick some monster ass."_


	5. Metal Rose

**Look, an update!**

**THINGS ARE PROGRESSING SOMEWHAT**

**Please enjoy, and thanks for reading, guys. I love you all.**

* * *

A month after their first successful drift, they completed Academy training.

He and Carol were Jaeger pilots, ready and primed to hop into a giant metal deathtrap and go to war. Problem was, they didn't have their very own metal deathtrap to fight with yet.

The two of them had watched on as the two unpiloted Jeagers in their dome were assigned to other pilots, leaving them wired and wondering where exactly that left _them. _

California, they soon found, would no longer be their base of operations.

He and Carol were being sent off, far from any temperate climate they'd ever known.

They packed what little gear they had to their names. Breathed together as they boarded a plane with two other teams. Slept half the way to their new base, their new _home_.

The Anchorage Shatterdome.

_He still couldn't believe they were sending him to fucking _Alaska.

Beside him, Carol chuckled tiredly.

The winds of the north rocked the plane all the way to the snowy airstrip.

* * *

They were given joint quarters. A bunk bed and a larger room, made no less boring by the lack of shit they had to fill it.

Carol was quiet as they were given a tour of the Shatterdome. The mission control techie named Tendo, an excitable guy Daryl knew he'd eventually find annoying, led the way, pointing at anything and everything and going into way too much detail on it all.

Aside from the whipping snow outside, the Alaskan dome was almost the same as the one they'd left behind. Anchorage was all cold and grey, but its dome _was_ larger, and the base housed what were soon to be three of the latest Jaegers released for combat.

The Mark 3's.

Tendo left them in the cafeteria, surrounded by an army of strangers holding food trays.

In another week, their assigned Jaeger would be cleared for active battle.

Carol twitched beside him as the flock of strangers stared at them in passing.

Daryl grimaced. Led them to the table where their old teammates from Cali sat alone.

_Battle-ready couldn't come soon enough._

* * *

Wednesday.

PT left them sweaty, achy and bored as shit.

After showering they sat quiet in their room, waiting for the bell that would signal the next meal time. Daryl had come to ignore the sound itself, instead focusing on Carol's responses to prompt his own. He knew what was happening to them. Their simulated Drifts had connected them outside the existence of the Conn-Pod. The science geeks who formed the program would try to tell him that the "ghost drift" was nothing more than overactive imaginations. Dreams and nightmares.

That the Drift ended when the connection did.

It was bullshit.

Even without looking over at her Daryl knew that Carol was nose-deep in an old book of his, something left over from the life he lived before.

Something he hadn't even glanced at since—

"I remember this story, from the Drift. I saw it in your head."

Daryl rolled over in his bunk to look at her. Carol sat at a desk on the other side of the room, a single lamp casting orange light over her brown-grey hair. It was getting longer, he noticed.

She didn't have a reason to keep it so short anymore.

"What story's that?"

When she looked up at him, the room swirled blue. A gunshot bounced off the concrete walls and he blinked hard to find the wet smile in her eyes.

She raised the book and he read the large print on the cover: _Native American Folklore_.

He knew which story she was talking about.

* * *

"_Dixons don't ever amount to nothin', little brother. World's goin' to hell anyway, might as well live it up while we can…"_

_She was crying in the corner. Short brown hair darkened with blood, face in her hands, a puddle of red about her feet. The cabin was dark. Smoke suffocated him. He could see her there, just in front of him, sobbing, scared and alone. _

_Daryl looked around and saw the shitty little meth lab on the table._

_Merle was gone._

_Of course he was._

_The smoke thickened. It wasn't from the lab. It was from—_

_The cabin was on fire, and he didn't know why._

_A woman coughed in his ear. Not Carol. Older. Familiar._

_Somewhere outside Ed yelled at his wife to come out and get what was comin' to her._

Enough.

_He reached out. Grabbed her shoulder. Bloody and warm. It wasn't her blood. He knew that._

_Carol looked up at him. Blue eyes shone in the dark, wide, terrified. Desperate and confused._

"_C'mon."_

_He held out his hand, motioned for her to take it._

_She didn't._

_He growled._

"_Carol, come on!"_

_She shook her head, wiped at her face. Blood streaked across it, fresh tears painting lines through the red. _

"_No. I can't—"_

"_The hell you cain't. Get up. You'll die if you don't."_

_She jolted when a scream tore through the darkness around them. A child's scream._

_Sophia's._

_She cried out, staring up at him,_

"_Who are you?"_

_Daryl choked in a breath. The meth lab burst into flames next to them._

"_You know who I am. Now come on, you ain't dying here. Not without _me_."_

_She stared for a moment, quiet and still._

_Raised her hand just enough for him to grab it._

_The smoke in the room thinned. Turned blue. _

Mist.

_Time slowed._

_Outside of the burning cabin, Ed's shouting became a monster's roar._

_Her fingers squeezed his and Carol smiled._

* * *

The Jaeger was bright and shining, white and silver and reflective black. It stood taller than the Mark 2's, but not by too much. A few dozen feet or so. It stood in stasis, waiting for its first (and hopefully only) set of pilots to climb into its metal skull and sync it into life.

Tendo blathered on beside him, naming off some of the additions that set it apart from its predecessors. He caught something about radiation shielding, blocked out the details of its new hydraulics. A stake-like appendage sat up on its right wrist, and Daryl blinked when Carol questioned it before he could,

"The weapon on its arm. What is it?"

Tendo's teeth flashed and Daryl sneered at his enthusiasm.

"_That_ is a harpoon. Of sorts. Not edged, as you can see, but a projectile bolt capable of lobotomizing even the toughest Kaiju brains. Retractable, of course. Completely badass."

Carol smiled at the younger man, amused and impressed. Daryl tore his eyes from her lips to take note of the Jaeger's left arm, sporting what almost looked like a small canon.

No need to ask what _that_ one did.

"Got to finish calibrating the Conn-Pod, and she's good to go. Oughta have her ready by Sunday at the latest. Your first sync-up will be Monday if all goes well."

Daryl nodded and felt his muscles coil.

"We're _past _ready. Kaiju ain't gonna wait, either."

Tendo took a step back from him, the grin on his face twisting with his nerves. Carol ghosted nearby and Daryl heard her in his head,

_Don't be mean._

"Well, she's all yours, you two. But you can't get out there and kick Kaiju ass without giving your Jaeger a name. And we gotta get an insignia painted on her before she lands her first kill, so—"

"I know what to name it already." Daryl peered over at her as Carol met Tendo's eyes and smiled, small but genuine.

The tech glanced warily at him before nodding at Carol encouragingly,

"Yeah?"

She looked at him. Their eyes met and he told her without words that naming the damn thing was up to her. He cared more about the inside, the piloting, the _usage_, than what they would paint on the metal monster's shoulder.

Daryl watched as her chin raised just a hair.

"_Cherokee Rose_."

He felt his lips quirk slightly. Something bubbled in his chest and he wondered if it was pride.

Tendo snorted.

"What kind of a name is _that_?"

The bubbling stopped and was replaced by a very nasty heat.

And to think Daryl was considering _not_ hating the guy-

He stepped forward, invaded Tendo's space. The man shook his head, wide-eyed. Looked back at the silent Jaeger and again at Carol.

"I meant, ah—what does it mean?"

Daryl smelled salt. Tasted tears when there were none being shed.

He heard his own voice, echoing through Carol's head and back into his own before being replaced with actual sound as she replied softly,

"It means _hope_."


	6. The Scream of the Sea

**I apologize for the slow progression of this fic. And as always I thank you guys for reading!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_**Team 2 to the suiting station. Dixon and Peletier to the suiting station…"**_

_A klaxon brayed like a damn jackass in his dreams. Red flashed behind his eyelids and behind the godawful alarm he could hear the intercom, a drone-like voice repeating his and Carol's names like a mantra—_

"Daryl, wake up. The Breach is active; we're being called in!"

He jerked. Fully awake. Her blue eyes bit into his and his mouth twisted, both frowning at the abrupt awakening and attempting to grin at the thought of finally getting deployed.

Carol moved from his space as he whipped himself out of the bunk, craning his neck to the left to hear it pop.

"'Bout _time_. I was startin' to think we were part of some ongoing military prank."

* * *

Their drivesuits secured, Daryl fingered his helmet as he and Carol marched down the metal catwalk to their Jaeger, his steps almost falling in with hers. He imagined her heart racing in time with his, apprehension creeping faster and faster until it was leaking adrenaline into their bloodstreams.

Carol moved forward ahead of him, all of two steps faster.

Without a thought he looked at her back, followed the outline of the synaptic spine in the suit as it trailed down to the curve of her—

He blinked and tore his eyes away. Felt her head turn to look back at him curiously.

"You alright?"

The catwalk broke away as they stepped inside the Conn-Pod of _Cherokee Rose_.

Lights flickered to life around them and Daryl found their reflections in the bright blue gaze she set on him,

"Yeah. Just ready to get somethin' done."

"_**Strap in guys, we got a Cat 2 making its way to the shore as we speak. Third on record. Nothing to fuck around with."**_

Tendo's usual chipper tone was serious as it sizzled into their ears through the comm-link.

The motion rigs locked into their suits, boots securing them into place, cables hooking into their arms, their backs, ensuring every move they made would be followed immediately by their Jaeger.

He took a deep breath. Carol did the same, directly after.

LOCCENT command sent coordinates streaming onto their HUD, a 3D visual of the kaiju swimming through the ocean several miles off coast glimmering at them like a warped animated kid's movie.

A new voice came over the comm., deep and commanding. Daryl thought he recognized it, but couldn't quite—

"_**Rangers, this is Stacker Pentecost. As of yesterday I am the new Marshal of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps and your commander. As this is your first mission there are a few things you should know before deployment. First: follow my instructions to the letter. Second: you are not allowed to die without my permission. The kaiju you are facing, Codename 'Black Bone', is one of a new breed, the Category 2's. Their armor is thicker, their points of vulnerability fewer. The primary objective is to keep the kaiju from getting inland. Kill it before it reaches the main coast. Are we clear?"**_

Daryl felt his eyes roll. He knew all of that shit already. And Ranger or not, he wasn't going to roll under the weight of this "Stacker" asshole like a good little drone.

Lucky for him, Carol knew that and was ready.

"We're clear, Marshall. Ready for the neural handshake when you are."

* * *

_A deafening roar lit his spine on fire. _

_Blue ocean waves washed over his head, and he was sinking, deeper and deeper, into the black._

_He shivered. Bit against the pain._

_She was there. Hand reaching out to his, sinking with him._

_The roar was above them. A scream, childlike and terrified, sounded from the blackness below. The smell of methamphetamine assaulted his nose. He wondered, for just a moment, how he could smell it when all he was inhaling was the sea._

_Time slowed. A little girl played with her doll in her bedroom. Ed was hollering for his wife to come cook him supper. The girl looked up at him, and Daryl looked down at himself._

_He wasn't there. Carol was._

_His teeth clenched. Sophia clutched her doll to her chest and opened her mouth to speak—_

"_Don't fall away into the Drift. Don't lose yourself, Daryl. Hold on; this is it, this is what we've been waiting for."_

He jolted. The rig moved with him.

Carol was in his head, breathing with him, and warmth pooled into his veins as he looked to his left and found her watching him.

"_**Right hemisphere calibrated. Left hemisphere calibrated. Holding strong, guys. Ready for drop in 3…2…"**_

The drop.

Daryl had only felt it in the simulations. The Jaeger's head was detached from its body, high above its shoulders. The drop would lock them in, and there would be no turning back—

_We're past that point already. _

He looked at her and nodded.

The Conn-Pod was released and they were sent plummeting a few hundred feet downward, the velocity of it making him fight nausea.

_I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm sorry._

She was talking to him without words, through feelings he felt so strongly that he could have swore they were his own. Grimacing, he fought a shudder as they landed onto the body of _Cherokee_ far softer than he would have ever expected.

_Don't be. Scared or sorry. We're not dyin' today. We're gonna kill this bastard._

* * *

It was past midnight.

The sky was clear, stars shining down on the glistening metal of the Jaeger. Northern lights seemed to move through the air around them, and Daryl felt Carol sadden at not being able to stop and appreciate the phenomenon.

He sighed with her.

Picked up his right leg as she picked up hers. Took another heavy step into the ocean, closer to their target.

The water was chest deep to _Cherokee _by now, and their muscles burned with the strain.

When would they get used to this?

His comm fizzled again. Tendo's voice was replaced by Pentecost's, all grating authority:

"_**Got a solid read on Black Bone's position. Twenty yards and closing. Listen close, Rangers. This kaiju in particular has a series of thick plates on its chest and back. You'll need to get in close enough to assess its weaknesses without putting yourselves in a position for counterattack. Kill it quickly. Outmaneuver it. Outsmart it. And don't get killed."**_

Daryl snorted into his helmet,

"Don't plan on it."

Tendo's voice broke in,

"_**Ten yards...nine. Do you see it?"**_

Daryl narrowed his gaze at HUD, the scanners picking up the movement as the kaiju attempted to hide beneath the steady waves.

His blood rushed suddenly, heart pounding into his ears.

_Not his heart. Hers._

He looked at her again. She looked back.

"Carol—"

A scream-like roar tore through the sea and wracked their Jaeger, sending nervous energy pulsing through flesh and metal.

He couldn't remember what he was going say to her, anyway.


	7. First Notch on the Belt

**Sorry for the delay, as well as a short update!**

**I'm not very experienced with battle scenes.**

**Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

It was on them before he could blink. As tall as their Jaeger, probably twice the weight, the kaiju was big and spiny and dinosaur-like. Black spikes lined its spine, and its skin glimmered with a blue hue.

Daryl would have taken more notes on the thing's appearance had it not slammed into them as it jettisoned from the sea. Black claws swiped at their Conn-Pod, the contact making a metallic screeching sound that threatened to give him an instant headache.

He grimaced. Red lights signaled an attack warning.

_No shit, Cherokee. It's attacking us right the fuck _now.

He thought he heard Carol chuckle beside him.

But she was too busy gasping at the jolt the monster had given their Jaeger, he thought, to possibly find anything in this situation funny.

"Daryl—"

"Brace, dammit! Brace now!"

Black Bone screamed at them, barreling forward and attempting to knock _Cherokee Rose_ off her feet.

_Oh my God. Okay, okay. You can do this._

He looked at her as her voice whispered in his head. Together they reached forward, grabbing the kaiju by the shoulders and steadying themselves against its weight. It struggled in their grasp, and then headbutted them.

Something cracked.

Another warning blared.

"Son of a _bitch_. Carol, hold tight. Don't let it go!"

_I won't._

He surged forward with his right arm, the Jaeger sensing the movement and following with its own. He felt when it made contact. His knuckles were instantly bruised. Biting back a howl of curses Daryl reared back, dove in again to land another blow to the kaiju's snout. Carol had it by one arm, pulling it in so that Daryl could knock it back again.

A whining roar told him he was hurting the damn thing.

"S'_right_. Headbutt us again, asshole."

Another punch and the kaiju staggered back, tearing out of Carol's grasp.

"It's dizzy as hell, Daryl. Let's keep the upper hand, here."

_When you'd start using words like "hell"?_

She smiled at him.

Raised her arm as he raised his. The computerized voice on the Conn-Pod came to life as they activated their weapon.

_**Bolt Harpoon, deployed.**_

He wanted to sneer outright as the bolt was fired from _Cherokee_'s right wrist. One end chained to their Jaeger, its point embedded into Black Bone's chest, eliciting a godawful howl of pain. Carol jerked back, prompted him to follow the movement. The kaiju came stumbling back into their space, and to Daryl's surprise, it was Carol who released a hot, vengeful breath just before slamming their Conn-Pod against the monster's thick skull.

His headache pounded to life.

"Goddammit, woman, warn me before you do shit like that!"

He watched her reach up, the Jaeger rig following her movements as she held her own head.

"Sorry. Besides, if you'd been paying attention you would have known. Drift connection, remember?"

_Smartass._

She grinned at him and blinked back at the HUD as Black Bone tried to fight its way up from the ocean, the harpoon still lodged in its chest.

With a flick of the wrist Daryl called the bolt back, felt Carol raise her hand to grab a horn sticking up from the kaiju's neck. She jerked it upward, let Daryl coax her right arm up with his own.

"Let's kill this bastard."

He squeezed his fist. Released the bolt into Black Bone's skull, dead between the eyes. A moan, deep and guttural, rumbled out into the waves as thick, blue blood spewed out onto their Jaeger, spilling into the sea at their feet.

It fell. They stepped back as waves rose with the weight of its body.

Blinking against their shared headache Daryl looked over at his partner, found her chest heaving from the adrenaline. "We did it. Daryl, we _did it_."

He shrugged against his own elation. _Or was it hers? God, she hadn't felt this alive since the girl died, and he knew it._

_He felt it._

"Wasn't that hard. Don't know what all the fuss is about."

"_**Rangers, confirm kill, confirm kill."**_

Daryl jerked his head at her. Let her answer for them.

"That's a confirmed kill, Mr. Choi, Black Bone is down."

Pentecost's voice broke over static,

"_**Well done, you two. RTB."**_

They turned away from the bright blue gore below them, followed their HUD to lead to lead them back home.

"10-4, Marshall. Returning to base."

He felt his lips quirk at the even confidence in her voice.

_About time._


End file.
